


Awkward Object

by Lilliburlero



Series: Consistently Homesick [7]
Category: The Marlows - Antonia Forest
Genre: Comment Fic, Fencing, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilliburlero/pseuds/Lilliburlero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nicola Marlow, always happy when the thermometer on the Air Ministry roof registers 80 degrees, is leaving her current job for more congenial climes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward Object

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AJHall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJHall/gifts).



> A comment fic to a request for something set a year or two before [Twos and Threes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1516352).

'If I didn't know better,' Miranda said, 'I'd say you looked almost wistful.'

'Well, I have been happy _here_. But I won't miss the field work. Brrrr.'

'Well, now it'll be all tropical whites and solar topees, won't it?'

'Up to a point, Lord Copper. Actually, when you climb a bit it's not much warmer than Trennels in spring, but with the odd black mamba. But it'll be a relief from always being bundled up like the Michelin man and never feeling dryshod. Except in the rainy season—'

'Rather you than me. Blimey,' Miranda remarked, glancing out of the window of the first-floor office, 'there's a sight for Monday morning before your third cup of coffee. Doesn't look like he'd be troubled by brass monkey weather.'

'What? Oh. He's Lawrence of Arabia's little brother, you know. Was the model, I mean. I like him. He reminds me of someone.'

'Must have been a weekend to remember.'

Nicola grinned, unembarrassed. 'Not like that, as it happens. Right, better get down to this packing. Thanks awfully for coming up.'

'No trouble at all. I have the van all day and the only thing in my diary was to drop off that chandelier and cabinet at the Arts Theatre. The Shop's in Toni's capable hands, so I'm entirely at your service.'

'It might be a bit dusty—' Nicola looked dubiously at her friend's Jean Muir shift.

'It's grey, isn't it? Won't show.'

But no-one packed for Nicola; she had organised by rapid stages a system under which she sorted and stowed, allowing Miranda occasionally to fulfil some brisk direction, but otherwise only the role of commentator and gossip columnist. The shelves were stripped and the cupboard emptying when Miranda spotted an awkward object, as always left over till the end. 

'Nicola! I didn't know you'd ever fenced—'

Nicola sat back on her heels and brushed her hair out of her eyes. 'Nor I have.'

Miranda whipped the foil from the back of the cupboard, balanced it for an instant to feel the length and weight, and flicked it in a quick pass.

'God alone knows where—oh, I remember. It's Lawrie's. Well, she _liberated_ it after one of her tours finished here, and yours truly ended up lugging it around an absolutely interminable pub crawl with her _charming_ charmed circle. And then she decided she didn't want it after all.'

Miranda grimaced _typical_ over an advance-lunge. 'Reminds me of—oh,' she said, dropping the foil, 'never mind.'

'No, what?'

'I was going to say Mercutio. But that was after you—left.'

'Oh, Miranda. As if that matters now. Didn't do me any harm. The world of good, in fact. I think I remember Lawrie writing about _Romeo and Juliet_ , actually—but that was the one she fell out with Tim over, wasn't it? Wasn't the most frequent or coherent portion of Little Sister's epistolary life, that. I bet you were a super Mercutio.'

'So-so, actually. Perhaps a bit too _nice_. Sort of _it was never like this at Winchester, what have I done to get mixed up with this awful crowd_?'

'Isn't that what he says, more or less?' 

Miranda laughed. 'I suppose it is.'

Nicola said impulsively, 'You wouldn't like it, would you?' She picked up the foil by the blade and offered Miranda the hilt.

'Thank you, Nick. I should love it.'

**Author's Note:**

> The post Nicola is leaving is one in the [Scott Polar Research Institute](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Polar_Research_Institute) in Cambridge. Miranda's comment is occasioned by Kathleen Scott's bronze '[Youth](http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Youth-lawrence-cambridge.jpg)' (c.1922) in the grounds. I'm not sure that there's in fact any office space in the the Institute from which you can see the face of the figure, whose head is thrown back. The model was indeed A.W. Lawrence, younger brother of T.E..
> 
> Given Nicola's resolute Oxford sympathies, readers may be surprised that she has ended up in Cambridge. I can only plead that in this crossover universe it is a matter of Manifest Destiny. (It is a mild disappointment to her, and makes the day of the Boat Race a fraught occasion, especially if Giles is around.)
> 
> Hefty _homage_ of course, to ch. 13 of _The Charioteer_.


End file.
